Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Author's Note
Prologue
Chapter 1: Value
Chapter 2: Gold Bone Forging
Chapter 3: Fire Gathering
Chapter 4: Meeting a Friend
Chapter 5: Regulation
Chapter 6: Hidden Opponents
Chapter 7: Gambling
Chapter 8: Lucky General
Interlude: Ten Thousand and Eighty
Chapter 9: The King’s Condition
Chapter 10: Foreign Aid
Chapter 11: The Price of Power
Chapter 12: Changes in Quicksilver
Chapter 13: Surprise
Chapter 14: Concealment
Interlude: Violet Wind Master
Chapter 15: First, Stop the Bleeding
Chapter 16: Progress
Chapter 17: Complications
Chapter 18: Possession
Chapter 19: Corruption
Chapter 20: Anonymous
Interlude: Of Mice and Men
Chapter 21: Winds of Change
Chapter 22: Recovery
Chapter 23: Deterioration
Chapter 24: The South
Chapter 25: A Beast’s Nightmare
Chapter 26: Trap
Chapter 27: Siege
Chapter 28: Surprise
Chapter 29: Upheaval
Chapter 30: Choice
Chapter 31: Swamp Tribulation
Chapter 32: Motive
Chapter 33: Converging
Chapter 34: Corrupted Crimson
Chapter 35: Exposing the Plot
Chapter 36: The Truth
Chapter 37: Fetters
Chapter 38: Father
Chapter 39: Unraveling
Epilogue:
The Cultivation Systems
A Note to Readers
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Other Wuxia Novels
Corrupted Crimson
Painting the Mists, Book 5
By Patrick G. Laplante
Copyright © 2019 by Patrick G. Laplante
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book. Requests for permission should be addressed to the publisher.
Pure Jade is a work of fiction. Names, organizations, places, and incidents portrayed in this novella are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual, events, locales, or persons is purely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Published by: Patrick G. Laplante
First edition, 2019
ISBN: 978-1-9994447-9-2
Other Painting the Mists books:
Clear Sky
Blood Moon
Light in the Darkness
Pure Jade
Dedication
To those who forgive.
Author’s Note
At the time of writing this note, there are five hours remaining until the new year. I can’t help but look back at the past year in satisfaction. With the release of my books Clear Sky through Pure Jade, readership for Painting the Mists has soared. My writing skills have improved, and everyone’s impatience for the next book lets me go to bed with a smile every night. You, the readers, are what makes this all worthwhile.
But enough of that—let’s talk about Corrupted Crimson. As the tittle suggests, nothing can remain the same forever. Slowly but surely, even the most resplendent gold will become tarnished. The sharpest blade will dull, and the brightest silver will tarnish.
The same applies to people, to groups, and to nations. Chains of karma hold us down one by one, until choice is nothing more than an illusion. Can anyone be truly unfettered, a golden soul with freedom of choice? Or will everyone be forever tainted with a modicum of corruption, a crimson stain that will forever mar an otherwise perfect existence?
Most of us will never know, but one thing is certain: Nothing can remain unchanged. Time affects all things, and even the purest gold must be dusted and polished.
Prologue
The way forward was dark. The ever-present blackness sought to devour the small group of adventurers as they wandered through the underground tomb. A sphere of light traveled in front of them. It was a warm, soothing brightness that banished away the cold shadows that bit them. The artifact shone with unfettered gold, banishing the traces of corruption wherever they passed.
“Why would they build such an extensive labyrinth?” a man said. He was bald and wore an orange kasaya. Unlike Master Zhen, he looked to be in his midtwenties. His qi cultivation was practically nonexistent, but his soul shone brightly, banishing the mortal world’s corruption wherever he walked.
The middle-aged Master Zhen had spent fifty years establishing his resplendent soul. He was now one hundred years old, the oldest of the World Tree Master’s direct disciples.
“Patience is a virtue, Sibi,” Master Zhen said. “The battle we Buddhists fight is an eternal one, and impatience invites corruption and fetters one’s heart.”
“My apologies, Master,” Sibi said, regaining his usual composure. “It has been so long since we’ve seen the sun, and the shadows eat away at one’s very soul.”
“You are right,” Master Zhen said. “These shadows aren’t natural. They are the reason we’ve wandered so far and so long. Our order was wrong to ignore this tomb until now.” He caught a glint of gold at the end of the dark corridor. Seeing this speck of brightness, the impatient monk beside him quickened his steps. “Hold your ground, Sibi,” Master Zhen said, stopping him with a gentle palm. “You must not let temptation corrupt your innocent heart.”
“But I’m not tempted by worldly possessions,” Sibi protested. “This gold means nothing to me.” Nevertheless, he slowed down and allowed his teacher to take the lead.
“You were not tempted by gold, but by time,” Master Zhen said. “You were tempted by hope, by an end to the dreary scenery. But you must remember that these are all illusions that shackle us to the mortal realm. Only by shedding these attachments can we transcend and become a buddha. The only surefire way to Buddhahood is diligence, perseverance, and purposeful avoidance of these temptations. If you do not shield your heart…”
“… it will be corrupted by karma and sow seeds of evil in your spirit,” Sibi finished. “Don’t worry, I always remember your teachings.”
Master Zhen smiled at his disciple’s quick response and continued his slow pace toward what was now a golden glow. The rough stone walls eventually transitioned to marble inlaid with golden runes. They preserved the resting souls of the ancient emperors so they could guard the dynasty for all eternity.
“What a foolish ancient practice,” Master Zhen muttered, shaking his head. The bodies of the ancient kings rested on marble slabs, which were adorned with a golden plate inscribed with protective runes.
“Why foolish?” Sibi said. “Do the Bodhisattvas not teach to protect those who cannot fend for themselves? In my opinion, these are honorable men. Despite their empire fading into ruins, they still protect their descendants without fail.”
Master Zhen shook his head and walked over to one of the marble slabs. A gentle wind blew the dust off the gold formation plate, revealing a blurry name he couldn’t quite make out.
“It isn’t their purpose that is foolish, Sibi, but their methods. Souls who transcend using the Buddhist path and the Evil Spirit path are expelled from the plane because their transcendent souls are eternal. Even without transcending, a soul will survive for fifty thousand years. Mortals, on
the other hand, have a much shorter lifespan. A mortal human can live for up to one hundred years, while a demon monarch can live for five thousand. This is the natural order of things.”
“That is naturally why they sought this path, Master,” Sibi said. “It is the only way in which they could extend their protection through the generations.”
Master Zhen sighed. “How long have you been alive, Sibi?”
“Twenty-five years,” Sibi said.
“And how has age affected your perception of the world and your perception of time?” Master Zhen asked him.
“I can barely remember my younger years,” Sibi replied. “They are gone like a ripple in the water. I can only live in the present, for fear of being confused by the dull image of a once-sharp past.”
“And that is the problem,” Master Zhen said, gesturing to the corpse. “This man died ten thousand years ago. How does his spirit see the world now? Does it still see the nation as something to protect? You need to realize that we Buddhists do not become spirit entities until we transcend to a higher plane, where we can continue our good work. That is because a mortal soul is far too vulnerable to outside influences. It is better that we enter the cycle of reincarnation rather than bare our souls to the material plane’s corruption.
“Conversely, these kings have mimicked the path of evil spirits. They have bound themselves to their nation’s karma and the will of their people. They will remain as spirit protectors for 50,000 years. Will they remain unaffected by the ravages of time?”
Sibi nodded slowly as he absorbed this useful knowledge.
The pair soon left the protector’s marble slab behind and continued deeper into the mausoleum. The narrow hallway opened up into a large gold-covered room. In the center stood a gold dais which held a small jade object surrounded by twelve golden sarcophaguses.
Master Zhen gestured for them to halt and took out his exorcist’s staff, which he waved back and forth while chanting mantras. His resplendent soul shone with a golden light that resonated with the runes on the walls. The dais and the walls shattered like a thin sheet of glass, dispersing the wondrous illusion and showing the tomb’s true colors.
What remained was a scene from a nightmare. Crimson lines covered the once-pure golden walls like spider webs. On the broken dais lay a crimson seal. Only a single speck of green jade remained on its corrupted surface.
“And that is why this method is foolish, Sibi,” Master Zhen said gravely. “The emperors bound their souls to the karma of the nation using their imperial jade seal. They thought that by doing so, they could protect the destiny of their nation for eternity.
“But look at it now. The descendants of their once-prosperous nation have been through multiple civil wars, plagues, and famines. Devil cults sow chaos and panic, and civil strife is rampant through the competing kingdoms that once formed their empire. The nation’s destiny is corrupted, and as a result, their holy spirits have now become evil spirits.
“They now haunt and curse the nation in their bitterness, the opposite of what they had hoped to achieve.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Only the Grand Master can take care of this. It will cost him dearly, but he will do it for the sake of mankind. The corrupted artifact will soon sow discord throughout the empire, causing friends to kill each over paltry matters and children to turn on their parents. Millions will die in the process.”
“Is there truly nothing we can do?” Sibi asked, his eyes downcast. “There is still a speck of purity on the crimson seal. If we act quickly, we can propagate it.”
Master Zhen patted Sibi on the shoulder. The boy was far too young, and this was only the first of many setbacks he would encounter.
“We are helpless,” Master Zhen said. “If we approach the seal, the brightness within our souls will conflict with the corrupting aura within it. Either the seal will be unfettered, or we will be corrupted.”
“So it’s possible?” Sibi asked.
“For me, there is a one in three chance of purifying it,” Master Zhen replied. “For you, it’s a one in five chance. You must consider that losing one of us will grant the evil spirits a powerful new recruit. We would turn against mankind and sow misery amongst the countless mortals. The damage we cause could be much worse than the corruption of the seal itself.”
“But if we do nothing, millions will suffer,” Sibi said. “I became a monk to save the innocent. How can I possibly give up on my calling?” He moved toward the seal.
“Stop!” Master Zhen yelled.
As he spoke, the golden characters of the Mantra of Restraint surrounded the young monk and pushed him backward. Sibi remained calm. His resplendent soul shot out and expanded around his body. It glowed golden, and the vestment was covered in Buddhist scriptures. The Mantra of Restraint could only bow in obedience and shoot back to their originator. Master Zhen was now the one bound by his own mantra.
“When did you achieve the Soul-Like Scripture Realm?” he asked in shock. Only the Masters had achieved such a thing.
“I’m sorry, Master,” Sibi said. “This is something that I must do. If there is a chance to alleviate the people’s suffering, I will do my utmost to help them. Even at the cost of my soul.”
Master Zhen could no longer stop him. Therefore he silently supported Sibi and hoped for his success. Sibi grasped the seal, and the battle between buddhas and evil spirits began—unfettered gold and corrupted crimson ate away at each other like swarms of ravenous insects. Slowly but surely, the seal’s crimson aura receded. The small speck of jade became one percent of the seal and soon expanded to thirty percent.
Since he achieved the Soul-Like Scripture Realm, he still has a chance, Master Zhen thought.
He calmed his mind and held out his exorcist’s staff. He chanted the Mantra of Support as he poured out his soul energy into the struggling youth. Little by little, the crimson aura receded to fifty percent. It continued slowly until it ultimately reached seventy percent before stopping. At this point, Sibi’s golden soul suddenly underwent a drastic change.
The corruption in the seal shot out and sent eighty-one crimson chains that began digging into his spiritual flesh. Master Zhen looked on tensely as one by one, these chains were unfettered. They poured into Sibi’s soul, brightening its golden color as they disappeared. This continued until only a single chain remained. This chain was far thicker than the rest.
Seeing the young man’s struggle, Master Zhen ignited his remaining vitality to aid the young monk. He burned away his life and soul until only ten years of life remained. To his relief, a light golden glow returned to Sibi’s rapidly fading soul. The last chain disappeared and fused to his body.
Master Zhen sighed in relief. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” Sibi said.
Master Zhen realized with a cold shudder that the young monk’s voice seemed off.
“Turn around and greet your master,” Master Zhen said. His sweat-covered body barely had any strength remaining. He could only despair as little by little, Sibi turned around and revealed a drastically changed appearance. His golden face was covered with crimson veins of corruption that crawled across his body like evil runic lines.
“Greetings, Master,” Sibi said, giving the older man an awkward bow.
Master Zhen sighed. “Why did you fail? How could you fail when you’d clearly resolved the corruption?”
Sibi shook his head. “If only the final trial were so easy. But it wasn’t a complete loss—by fighting against the corruption, I realized the truth.”
“And what truth was that?” Master Zhen asked as he ignited a tattoo that rapidly replenished his soul. It was a gift from the World Tree, a blessing only given to potential World Tree Master candidates.
“That this country is terrible, and it must be annihilated,” Sibi explained. “They ignored their origins and murdered their countrymen for the sake of profits. Tens of millions have died in the process. The only way to resolve the karma of this nation is to destro
y it.” The man’s gentleness and compassion were gone. They had been replaced by the malice and resentment of the Song Empire.
“Hate only begets hate,” Master Zhen said firmly. “With mercy, even an evil spirit can be saved and reenter the cycle of reincarnation. Will you follow your master to obtain the World Tree’s blessing and unfetter your soul?”
He didn’t know if this was possible, but it was worth a try.
“I’m sorry, Master,” Sibi said. “You monks show no mercy toward evil spirits, so I dare not follow. I cannot obtain vengeance for the Song Empire if I die.”
The man’s hands came together in a teaching pose. A crimson glow appeared around Sibi as he uttered corrupted Buddhist mantras. They shot out from his mouth and struck the aged monk one after another.
Master Zhen shot out 108 talismans, which turned into 108 golden lights. They purified the corrupted runes, buying him time to jump back and evade a hidden assault. Having avoided the lethal strike, he pulled out a large rosary. Ten thousand and eighty golden pearls shone with unfettered gold light as they came together in an exquisite formation that banished Sibi’s crimson light.
But Sibi’s glow fought back. It intensified as his scripture-covered vestment unraveled and shot out toward the 10,080 rosary. They clashed together, granting Sibi an opening to charge at Master Zhen. The old and young monks exchanged gentle fist strikes in the monastery’s traditional style as their artifacts fought in midair. As they fought, Sibi’s style changed little by little. He shed his gentle fighting style and transformed it into an insidious and tricky one. Soon, Sibi found an opening. He struck Master Zhen in the chest and threw the older man into a crimson-colored wall.
“It pains me to do this,” Master Zhen said, tears flowing down his cheeks. He had severed most attachments, and his apprentice was one of the few that remained. “Ten Thousand and Eighty Spirit-Banishing Pearls,” Master Zhen said in a commanding voice. “Using my life force as a selfless medium, grant me the power to banish evil spirits from the realm. Grant me the strength to fight corruption and cleanse this man’s soul. Ignite my own soul to grant him eternal peace.”
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